


second, third, and hundredth chances

by disarmed



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BEN WOULD HAVE CARED, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, it physically hurts me that no one would have cared about rey's birthday, magic if you squint, no beta we die like men, space babies that deserve happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disarmed/pseuds/disarmed
Summary: In which Ben can'tstoptalking. No, really.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 91





	second, third, and hundredth chances

**Author's Note:**

> 2020 has been rough, and with the loss of chadwick boseman i wanted something a little light, a little nice, with a happy ending. so there came this. set after the TLJ in a an alternate universe where rey did take ben's hand; and he joined the resistance.

It’s been six months since Rey took Ben’s hand aboard the Supremacy. She can’t quite describe how it had felt the very first time he had clasped her wrist and pulled her tight, his fingers slip-sliding through sweat and blood to press bruises into her skin. 

_A dyad in the force_ , Luke tells them later, when they arrive on Ajan Kloss battle-worn and weary, the blood of the dead Supreme Leader glinting on the hilt of Rey’s light-saber. _As strong as life itself_. 

Rey isn’t sure if it’s due to her lack of training, but although she can sense the bond between herself and Ben she can’t yet control it. It flickers to life in the strangest of moments, and even when she follows it’s call she senses that Ben isn’t fully _there_ , even when he’s sitting three feet across the table from her. Sometimes she reaches out to him to see if maybe, just maybe, he’ll hear her silent plea across the Force and open himself to her fully. 

He never does though; he only fixes his dark eyes on her, wordless as usual.

*

It’s only pure luck that she overhears Leia talking to Luke about Ben’s birthday. 

Rey knows he was born in 5 ABY but she hadn’t known the exact day. She’s going over the trade units on the supply ships with Poe outside Leia’s tent when she overhears the older woman speak from inside. Rey hadn’t been paying much attention at first, as Luke had been comparing the current Resistance base to the training swamp in his youth for the past few minutes. 

“I’m telling you, Dagobah and Ajan Kloss are practically identical; wet, warm, green and overflowing with life.” He pauses thoughtfully. “At least this place doesn’t smell bad.”

“I do remember you telling me that _three days ago_.” Leia’s own voice is flat and unamused, but then it morphes into something soft and sorrowful, wracked with bitterness. “Tomorrow it will be thirty one years since we signed the Galactic Concordance; even now it pales in comparison to the birth of my son.” 

Luke’s answering sigh is without blame. “We only have from now on to try and make it right.” 

“He hardly speaks to me,” scoffs Leia. Rey can imagine the General rolling her eyes. “I mentioned his birthday this morning and you can _imagine_ the mood he went into; snapping at me and storming off to brood.” She makes a disgruntled sound in her throat. “You wouldn’t believe the boy is turning thirty one tomorrow; more like thirteen.” 

“Yes,” deadpans Luke, “I don’t know _where_ he gets it from.” There’s a scuffle and a yelp and Luke comes hurrying out of Leia’s tent, a hand cupped to his rib-cage protectively. He straightens up when he sees Rey and Poe. “Rey,” he grumbles in greeting. “Poe.” He darts a look back towards Leia’s tent before walking off.

Rey bites at her bottom lip thoughtfully. “You know,” she says slowly, turning to Poe. “These units all look good, nothing Threepio can’t take care of. I think -” 

“Yeah, yeah,” laughs Poe, fixing her with a knowing look. “You go do what you have to do, Rey.” He offers her a parting grin. “You will anyway.” 

*

It’s late when Rey slips into Ben’s tent. She peers into the darkness, calling his name softly. She knows he’s there; she can feel his Force signature - the verbal greeting is purely habit at this point. She senses the absolute _resoluteness_ with which he pretends to be asleep, even going as far as to fake a horrid, unbelievable sort of snorting sound that she assumes is meant to be a snore. 

“Nice try,” she murmurs. 

She hears his reluctant huff before the lamp beside his cot flickers to life. Sometimes Rey forgets how tall Ben is. Silly, really, considering that he stands almost a head above most of the Resistance (Chewie is, and always will be, an exception), but Rey doesn’t really _see_ Ben like that; all tall and imposing like the others do. She knows they fear him, she can see it the way they move quickly out of his path or avert their eyes when he’s looking their way. Now, as she stares at him lying on his back sprawled in the tiny cot, one long leg bent at the knee with the other hanging off the side of it, she is reminded of his largeness. 

“Well?” he drawls, glancing at her from where his arm is pillowed behind his head. “What is so important you had to interrupt my sleep at this hour?” 

“You weren’t sleeping,” Rey says blithely. “Besides, sleep is for people who’s birthday it isn't.” 

She doesn’t need the Force to feel him stiffen. 

“It’s not my birthday,” he gripes petulantly. 

“It very much _is_ your birthday,” argues Rey, shifting her hands behind her back minutely. His battle-trained eyes zero in on her movement. 

“What is that?” he asks, eyes flicking from her face to her hidden hands. “Rey.” He says her name tiredly, like she’s a child. 

Rey tries a different tactic and begins to approach him cautiously. “Please.” She raises her eyebrows beseechingly. He doesn’t say no, but he certainly doesn’t relax either. She takes another step forward. “It’s nothing bad,” she assures him, because his expression might suggest that she has a crystal snake behind her back ready to toss at him. Gently, she strokes the idle bond that lays between them, allowing him to sense her honesty. 

Begrudgingly he maneuvers until he is sitting upright to lean against the wall, one arm resting on his bent knee. He gestures with his other hand to the free end of his cot. Rey sits herself down, the side of her hip nudging his toes beneath the sheet. 

For what it’s worth he doesn’t flinch away. 

“Alright,” he says exasperatedly. “What is it?” 

Proudly, Rey presents the small, misshapen Jogan fruit cake. It had taken a _lot_ of wheedling to have this whipped up in the Resistance’s limited supply area, but Rey is _sort of_ well known now, Jedi in training and all that, and she may have used this a tiny little bit to get her way. She had tried to help, of course, but with little cooking knowledge in her repertoire other than portion bread, she had quickly been moved to the side. 

She’s proud of the finished result, nonetheless. Ben, on the other hand, is frowning severely at it. 

“It’s a bit squashed,” she admits apologetically, rotating it. “But I’m sure it’s still good.” She fishes around in the pocket of her tunic and pulls out a small, half-melted candle. She stabs it into the top of the cake triumphantly. “You’re supposed to blow out the candles,” she informs him encouragingly, because he’s looking more and more confused by the minute. “Usually there’s one for each year of your birthday, or so I've heard,” she goes on, eyeing up the little cake. “I’ve never had a birthday so I wouldn’t know, but Poe said -” 

“You’ve never had a birthday?” Ben’s voice is tight and deep, and when Rey glances up at him his face is closed off and his mouth is pulled into a tight line. 

“Well, no.” She picks at the lint on his sheet. “I don’t actually know when my birthday is. No one ever kept track on Jakku; why would they?” She shoots him a false, bright smile, shaking off her reverie. “It doesn’t matter, it’s _your_ birthday that we’re celebrating.” She shoves the cake at him almost threateningly. “Oh - wait.” She narrows her eyes on the tilted candle, calling the Force to her until the wick starts to smoke and finally, a flame ignites. “That’s better.” 

She looks across at Ben, except he’s still staring at her with that unreadable expression. It flares then for the first time in a long while, their bond, and Rey is drawn into his memory-scape. A youthful-looking Leia, her arms laden with a large, decadent Sic-Six layer cake topped with frosting and candles, places the dessert down with a wide, bright smile. There’s some sort of sweet fruit topped on each swirl of frosting, and Rey doesn’t know what they are but she knows she’s excited for them. A warm arm, strong and firm, clasps around her shoulders. She turns and, of course it’s Han - 

The bond closes off as swiftly as it had opened, but not before Rey is accosted by the immeasurable _fury_ that whirls within Ben; a tumultuous and violent thing. Rey is suddenly, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s used to grandeur, and to _birthdays_. What was she even thinking? 

She moves to stand up, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have bothered, I -”

Ben’s large hand curls around her wrist, tugging her back. “I’m sorry,” he grumbles, and Rey can sense that he’s desperately trying to control himself. “I’m not mad at you.” His eyes flicker from her face to the space on the cot she has just vacated. “Rey, please.” 

She sits back down slowly. “I don’t understand.” 

He’s silent for a long moment and Rey recognises the basic, meditative breaths from her training with Luke. “I’m mad for you,” he explains through a grimace. “That you haven’t had a birthday. You deserve more.” 

And Rey tells herself to be _stronger;_ hide your heart a little harder, especially with the gentle way he's looking at her, like he's willing to listen to everything and anything she might want to say, and have little judgement for it. Rey thinks that for all his flaws - and there are many - he has never been anything but honest with her, as both Kylo and Ben. Even if the brutal, barbed delivery makes it hurt all the more. 

“Oh.” Rey worries at her lip. “I mean, it’s nothing -” 

Ben’s voice cuts razor sharp through the air between them. “It’s not nothing.” He swallows, looking away. “You’re not nothing.” His gaze flickers back to her. “Not to me.” The words are a visceral reminder of their time in Snoke’s throne room from months before. Then, as if to try and ease the awkwardness that has encased them, he says, “ecclessis figs, the fruits that you saw were ecclessis figs. They were my favorites.”

“Right,” says Rey, ineloquently, “they looked… good. Well then.” She pushes the fruit cake toward him. “You have to blow out the candle and make a wish.” She gives him a rueful little smile. “Although, you probably already knew that.” 

Ben reaches out to take the cake from her. His large hands dwarf hers as they wrap tenderly around her offering. His lips quirk as he examines it. “Alright.” He looks up at her, eyes brighter than before, “I’ll do it if you do it.” 

  
Her brow furrows. “That’s not how it works -” 

He makes a dismissive sound. “Let’s say it does.” Ben shuffles forward and Rey finds herself leaning subconsciously into the space between his open legs. She must look hesitant, because Ben hums in his throat and says, “what’s the harm, Rey?” His brow lifts questioningly and she rolls her eyes, trying to hide her smile in the dim lighting.

“Alright.” She shuffles a bit closer, watching as the little flame flickers between them. “Count of three?” She glances up, and Ben’s face is so incredibly close. He is staring at her, a strange, wistful expression on his face. “One,” she says primly, trying not to enjoy the way the corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk. “Two.” She realises that she has no idea what she will wish for. 

But Ben says, “three,” and she squeezes her eyes shut, lips pursed. _Well_ , she thinks, as Ben’s warm breath wafts over her chin and mingles with her own, _I wish I could have given him a better birthday cake._

When she opens her eyes Ben is as still as stone before her, his face inches from her own, his dark brown eyes boring into hers. Rey lets her gaze run along the soft black sweep of his eyelashes and down the line of his nose.

“I made my wish.” Ben’s voice is flat, but there’s a crinkle to the corner of his eyes. 

Rey beams. “Right then. I’ll uhm, I’ll leave you with that.” She points to the little cake still cradled in his palms. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, oddly polite for what they’ve just shared together. “Good night!” She hurries out of his tent, ignoring the way Ben stares after her, and doesn’t let herself dwell on what he might have wished for. 

*

“There’s something wrong with him,” Finn announces in lieu of _good morning_ when Rey greets him. He’s waiting for her outside the make-shift war room where a meeting is scheduled to begin in the next few minutes. 

Rey tilts her head in query. He’s wearing a complicated sort of frown. “Who is?” she asks. 

Finn glances towards the inside of the large tent. “Ben.” There’s still a hard edge to the way he says the other man’s name, and Rey is reminded once again that, her feelings and their bond aside, Ben’s actions as Kylo Ren are hardly forgiven or forgotten by the majority of the Resistance; especially Finn. 

At that moment Poe pops his head from around the entrance. “You guys ready, we’re about to start?” 

“No, wait - what are you talking about?” pushes Rey, stepping closer to Finn. 

He fixes his gaze on Poe, who looks at them both quizzically before stepping out of the tent. “Oh,” Poe’s voice takes on a layer of understanding, and also drops a notch in volume. “Is this about Ben?” 

Rey scowls. “ _What_ is about Ben?” 

“He’s sort of - honestly Rey, he’s being weird. That’s really the best way to sum it up.” Finn says eventually. Unimpressed, she crosses her arms over her chest. Somehow they’ve managed to convene into a small imitation of a huddle. Finn shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know what to tell you; it’s just odd. Better you had some forewarning.” 

“What exactly is he doing?” She looks to both of them imploringly until Poe sighs. 

“He won’t stop talking.” 

Rey blinks. “Ben?” She considers this for a moment. “Ben Solo won’t _stop_ talking?” 

“Yeah,” drawls Finn, looking like he’s thinking it through. “Imagine it’s like him -” he jerks a thumb at Poe. “Just, it’s Ben.” 

Poe looks affronted. “I don’t _not_ stop talking.” 

Finn fixes him with a look. “Sure, okay man.” 

“We’re about to start,” interrupts a voice from behind them. They all turn to see Ben in the doorway. His eyes fix on Rey but he doesn’t say anything more, which, in Rey's opinion is quite normal. 

“Right,” says Rey quickly. “Finn said -” 

“Rey,” snaps Finn, and both her and Poe glance at him in surprise. “Yes,” he says in Ben’s direction, oddly pleasant considering how he usually addresses the other man; far less bite and venom present. “We’re coming in.” He gestures to the entry. “Shall we?” 

Ben seems to think on this for a moment and then says, “Yes. Let’s go in. The General, my mother -” he looks at them as if filling them in on a secret, “will be wanting to get underway as soon as possible. We should definitely go in.” 

No one says anything for a moment. Rey is too stunned to even acknowledge the nudge in her ribs from Finn’s elbow, too busy trying to remember the last time Ben had graced either Finn or Poe more than five words in a sentence, let alone speak about his _mother._

When no one moves Ben raises his eyebrows. “Am I interrupting something?” His gaze lands on Rey again, hot and heavy and suddenly she feels very, very suffocated. 

“Nope,” she says brightly, stepping towards him. “Not at all.” She can’t think of anything else to add, even though Ben is looking at her like he’s expecting something, and moves past him to join the melee of Resistance personnel surrounding the war-table. She can hear the others following behind her, and she can _feel_ Ben, but she doesn’t turn around. 

At the head of the table is Leia, flanked by Luke and Admiral Ackbar. Rey recognises a number of others before spotting Rose and sliding in beside her. Finn joins them, while Poe and Ben take up spaces on opposite sides of the table nearest Leia. It’s a relatively small meeting, given that the main purpose is to decide the Resistance’s next step in uncovering the location of the latest transmission regarding ‘the one true emperor,’ and too many voices in one room tends to lead to very little being done. 

Leia looks around the room in greeting. “Thank you all for joining me so early in the morning. There is caf -”

“Freshly brewed!” interrupts Threepio. He pushes his way in between Poe and Ackbar, brandishing a steaming pot of caf before him. “Made it myself I did, one of my best brews this week as far as I’m concerned! You _must_ all try some -” 

Poe swats at him, dodging the sloshing pot deftly. “Threepio, I swear to the Maker -” 

While they reign in Threepio, Rose leans conspiratorially towards Rey. “So, was that you I saw sneaking out of Ben Solo’s tent late last night or our other, female Jedi-in-training?” She shoots Rey a sly grin.

Rey immediately feigns disbelief. “It most certainly was not.” Then, at Rose’s obvious, knowing look, she relents. “Maybe.” She fidgets, unsure why this is making her uncomfortable. “You know, Force-stuff,” she whispers back. It sounds lame even to her, but Rose is a benevolent and understanding friend, so she only bestows Rey an amused, fond smile and doesn’t question her further. 

When Rey tunes back into the conversation behind held across the main table, Threepio has been subdued and Luke has the floor. “The broadcast was cryptic but clear in one thing; vengeance.” Rey notes that he looks incredibly tired; she wonders how long he’s been trying to figure out the broadcast location by himself. “We know that there is more to the Sith uprising than Snoke.” 

“Can we play it again?” queries Poe, his brows knitted. He turns and looks around the room. “Threepio - damn it, where he is he when you need him -” 

“At last the work of generations is complete. The great error is corrected. The day of victory is at hand. The day of revenge. The day of the Sith.” 

The room falls deathly silent as Ben finishes speaking. His low reiteration of the mysterious broadcast is perfect word for word, and suddenly, as if he’s realised that speaking will draw everyone’s attention to him, he looks slightly abashed. 

“Thank you, Ben,” says Leia with all her usual dignity. “That would be correct. Our goal is to find the origin of the source as swiftly as we are able -” 

“Where would we even start?” queries Ackbar, “we have no indication -”

“Mustafar.” Ben’s voice carries crisp and clear across the table. Rey jerks her head up to look at him. His eyes are fixed on Ackbar. “We start in Mustafar. Obviously,” he says this only slightly derisively, and Rey can’t help but wince at his tone. “Mustafar was the last reigning place of Vader, and a Sith cult exists there now in defense of the fortress. The Sith believe it to be a place of worship.” He pauses, and Rey thinks that’s the end of it, but then he takes another breath and continues. “Vader’s personal business was also attended there. He sought to bring back his wife from the dead.”

Rey’s stomach flip flops as a tension, thick and heavy, falls across the table. Luke and Leia have resolutely not looked at each other, and no one else has dared interrupt yet. Rey considers saying something for a moment, but even she can’t deny that this current _fountain_ of information from Ben isn’t helpful. 

“From the intel I gathered within the First Order -” as murmurs strike up Ben steam rolls on, “- Vader was in position of one of two Wayfinders. Artifacts that would lead the user to the legendary Sith redoubt planet. I believe that whoever sent that broadcast sent it from that planet, and if we can find the Wayfinder, it will lead us straight there.” 

He stops, glancing around the table. Rey also takes quick stock and can see that the majority of the people in the room are staring slightly slack-jawed at him like she has been. She closes her mouth quickly and tries to look more refined. Ben isn’t _wrong_ , but he’s also going off second-hand information and a lot of what-ifs. 

“There is another way.” 

Their heads swivel to Luke. He breathes heavily and looks down at his closed fists resting on the table. 

Leia looks at her brother quizzically. “You never mentioned -” 

“I know,” he says curtly, but not unkind. “I’ve been tracking another Wayfinder. I think I know where to locate the last clue that could take us to it.”

Rey can’t help but lean towards Luke’s tired admission. “That sounds more concrete.” She glances at Ben apologetically. “Mustafar is a skeptical lead but we wouldn’t even know where to begin, not to mention we’d be landing straight in enemy territory.” 

Ben’s gaze is sharp. “I disagree.” 

She makes a sound of frustration. “Of course you do, but you're speculating at best -” 

“And he isn’t?”

Before Rey can start to get riled, Finn leans over between them and asks, “do you two enjoy arguing?” 

“No,” says Rey. 

“Yes,” says Ben. 

The room goes silent again. Rey shoots Ben a confused look. “What?” 

“I enjoy it,” he says, almost absently. “I can tell that you do, too.” As she opens her mouth to shut that _right_ down he waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t bother denying it, I can feel it in the bond.” Rey jerks her head back, surprised. Up until today, she had assumed that Ben had been doing everything in his power to avoid their bond. He blinks suddenly and shakes his head. “I -” he flushes, aware of all the eyes in the room hyper-focused on him. Then, his eyes cloud slightly as he turns back to her and says, “there’s a passion within you that thrives with conflict, I enjoy stoking it where I can.” 

Luke makes a distressed sort of sound. “Ben,” he says, addressing his nephew with something skin to mortification. “Are you alright?” 

“That is the _best_ question I’ve heard all morning,” quips Finn. Even Poe is staring at Ben as if he’s grown a third head. “Do you need to lie down or something?” queries Finn, “because -” 

“No, I don’t need to lie down.” Ben regards Finn curiously. “Why would I? You asked if Rey and myself enjoyed arguing and I -” 

“Okay,” cuts in Poe, who looks to be grasping at the remains of his patience. “This is off-topic, whatever you two get up to in your own time is your business and if going at it like Rancors in a rage is your thing then -” 

Rey spits, “we are _not_ going at it like Rancors -”

“Surely you understand, Dameron?” asks Ben lazily, a curious tilt to his head. Rey is gobsmacked into silence to even consider interrupting at this point. “I distinctly remember during your first flight trials there was a young man you used to argue with - so much, in fact, that all you could do was talk about him day and night. Don’t you remember?” 

Rey looks across at Poe. His lips are pursed and his cheeks are flushing pink. “Solo,” he spits from between his teeth. “Stop talking.” 

Ben blinks again. “What’s wrong?” 

This time Rey coughs slightly and leans across the table in Ben’s direction. “Ben,” she asks softly, “what's going on?” 

Ben frowns and straightens with a defensive line to his shoulders that Rey reocgnises immediately. “Nothing. What do you mean?” Rey winces sympathetically as he glances around the room, the majority of its occupants eyeing him warily. He seems to pale further, if that’s at all possible. “Did I -” he coughs, clearing his throat because the broken edge to it is another embarrassment all it’s own. “I don’t know why -” 

No one says anything for a moment. Leia lets out her breath loudly and glances sideways at Luke. Rey can tell from her own experience that they’re communicating in their own, silent manner.

“Meeting adjourned,” states Leia suddenly. “We’ll revisit it this afternoon at further notice. Thank you for your time, everyone.” She fixes Rey, Ben, Poe, Finn and Rose with a firm, unyielding expression. “Please remain, you lot, I’d like a word.” There is a stony and awkward silence as the others vacate.

Afterwards, Rose lifts a hand cautiously. “I would just like to announce that I have _no_ clue what’s going on.” 

Leia sighs. “I don’t doubt you, yet somehow whenever something… _odd_ happens, you lot are always involved.”

Luke nods sagely. 

Finn hesitates. “We,” he gestures towards Poe, who lifts his arms in a _who, me?_ gesture. “We noticed that Ben was being particularly talkative this morning. We even told Rey.” 

Rey shifts sheepishly on her feet as Ben shoots her a wounded look. Everyone fixes their eyes on him. He stands tense and frozen for a moment, gaze darting between Rey and the battle maps on the table. He can’t seem to face anyone else. He opens his mouth briefly, but the collective wince from the remaining occupants in the room makes him rethink swiftly and close it, his lips pale and drawn into a tight line. When he looks at Rey she offers him a small, apologetic smile. 

“Is it -” Luke frowns, peering at his nephew curiously. “What triggers it?” 

“A question,” supplies Rose easily. “From what I’ve gathered it’s only active when he’s asked a direct question.” 

“Huh,” says Finn thoughtfully. “So, what do you think of Poe’s hair?” 

The question, as innocuous as it is, has them all on tenterhooks. Ben glances at Poe briefly. “It’s fine,” he replies flatly. He stops, and something akin to triumph flashes across his face before he says: “It’s always been an unruly head of hair. It looks far better now than when your mother used to crop it short for the flight academy.” He gives Poe a derisive sort of look. “Your face took on a shape much like that of a _box_.”

“What are we supposed to do with him?” asks Luke with a put-upon sigh. “Every time someone asks him something he’s going to start spouting off -” 

“Spouting off?” Ben leans indignantly across the table towards his uncle. “How dare you? If anyone can be accused of spouting off here it’s you, with your constant dull, tedious lectures. How many times was I subject to one of your plebeian speeches or monotonous discussions? Surely you enforced your ancient _wisdom_ on another of your prodigies, so I wasn’t alone in my suffering?” 

Luke blinks. “Sure, kid, tell us what you _really_ think.”

And Ben looks for all the world like he’s about to, as he leans so far forward across the table he’s practically climbing over it to get at Luke. Rey acts fast, shooting around the side towards Ben and clapping a hand across his mouth. She isn’t sure who looks more stunned; him, her, or any every other person in the room. 

“ _Well_ ,” says Leia loudly, and Ben looks around, startled, flushing a brilliant red when he catches Rey’s eye. “We can’t have you going around insulting the entire base,” muses Leia dryly. “We’ll have to keep you somewhat isolated until we can figure out whatever -” she waves a hand towards him, “- whatever it is that’s going on.” She fixes Luke with a look. “I’m sure that your uncle will do whatever he can to help you in this regard.” 

“Of course,” mutters Luke, although he looks like he wants to say a bit more if it weren’t for Leia’s hardened stare. 

“What do we do in the interim,” queries Rose, “just not talk to him?” 

“It won’t be hard, considering most people don’t.” Finn doesn’t say it unkindly, but Rey can feel the barbed sting that spreads from Ben to her across their Force bond. It isn’t made easier from the pitying, agreeing looks that are shot around the table. 

Rey absently rubs her thumb back and forth across the patch of skin just below Ben’s cheekbone. It’s a minute movement, and Ben tenses for a moment before a begrudging pleasantness wafts across their connection. His resentment towards the others is still simmering in the background, but it is dulled by the _pleased_ impression that he’s sending her way. 

“Finn and I were going to do a perimeter check shortly after midday and replace the ion-chargers in the magnetic poles,” supplies Rey. “I’ll take Ben instead, that will keep us out of your hair for a solid few hours if we take our time.” 

Leia frowns. “We have more pressing matters for the both of you to be attending, but I suppose it can’t be helped at this point.” She gestures to the doorway. “You’re all dismissed."

There’s a collective murmur of agreement as they shuffle out of the tent, and Rey drops her hand from Ben’s mouth slowly. She can see the nerves and muscles in his jaw working slowly. 

“It’ll be okay,” she says softly, nudging him in the direction of the entrance. “You’ll see.” The smile she shoots him falters, but he seems to appreciate the effort nonetheless. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, trying to figure out if when he opens his mouth a barrage of words will follow. 

Instead, and with what looks like great effort, he mumbles, “I know.” 

*

Rey had assumed that when Leia had said _isolated_ it would be Ben alone, (okay, maybe herself), but because her friends are nosy and persistent, it ends up being the four of them traipsing back to Ben’s tent after him. 

He gives them a withering look as they stand awkwardly in his small space before turning to Rey. “Must your posse insist on following you everywhere you go?” 

“It’s worked out in the past,” shoots Finn, accusation clear in his tone. Ben’s hands clench into fists at his sides. 

“Come on,” she encourages, ushering him to his cot. “Let’s just sit down.” She shoots Finn a fowl glare over her shoulder. He blinks innocently back at her. “Sit,” she says, almost a demand, and Ben does so without question. 

It’s another hot, humid day on Ajan Kloss, and Ben’s black shirt is loose at the collar. There’s a light sheen to his skin that looks quite lovely, and Rey finds herself staring at the column of his throat for a moment too long. She tries to pretend she isn’t looking but he catches her eye smugly. She makes a show of trying to get comfortable at the end of his cot and studiously ignores him. 

“So you really have to answer every question honestly?” Poe is talking more to himself than Ben, who doesn’t seem compelled to reply. Rey thinks this may be progress, but then Poe’s face takes on a wicked grin and she takes it all back. “Tell us more about this _passion_ that you see in Rey, hmm?” 

“Poe!” Rey snaps at him, glaring daggers. “That is _not_ fair -” 

“Rey is one of the most passionate creatures I’ve ever known.” Ben’s voice is like liquid silk, raw, unrestrained honesty dripping off of every word. Rey is so embarrassed she can’t even face him, instead, she takes vested interest in the floor beneath her feet as her cheeks burn. “The Jedi code would forbid attachments,” continues Ben, “and the Sith would use that passion to incite destruction. I would not see Rey’s passion extinguished nor misplaced.” He pauses, and Rey can’t help but think that maybe the floor could do with sweeping - “I would see her be just the way she is, and to use her natural skills to strengthen her own abilities in the Force.” 

Finally, even though it takes courage she doesn’t think she’s capable of, Rey looks up. Ben is staring at her with his piercing gaze, his lips parted slightly. There’s a flush to his pallor that Rey sympathizes with, for she’s sure her own face has colored a red so bright it rivals even his old light-saber. 

“Nice one,” grunts Rose, shoving at Finn and breaking the weighted silence that has befallen the room. “Ben,” she addresses him formally, politely, and Rey can sense his wariness through the bond. “Why are you so sure that the Wayfinder is on Mustafar?” 

_That_ , thinks Rey, _is an excellent question_. She turns to look at Ben curiously. 

He’s frowning in a contemplative manner. “Vader’s personal obsession was with his wife - my grandmother - and restoring her to life.” Even he winces at the admission, and Rey feels for him as a twisted sense of shame and embarrassment coils in his gut and spreads through the bond between them. Subtly, she shifts closer on the cot until her thigh is brushing his. The movement seems to anchor him as a steady, clarifying feeling takes precedence through their connection. 

“Darth Sidious,” continues Ben, more confidently than before, “the Sith Emperor at the time, promised him this as a way to turn him to the dark side. Vader became obsessed with trying to find out how. The Wayfinder was supposed to lead to the nexus of the Sith power; there, he would be able to restore her.” He sets his gaze on the opposite wall. “That, coupled with the intel the First Order procured from my original search efforts, is enough for me to believe the Wayfinder is on Mustafar.” 

After a long moment of silence, Poe hmms. “Not bad, Solo.” He starts to pace back and forth. He doesn’t get far, maybe four to five steps in each direction due to the limited space, but it seems to help his thought process. “I don’t understand why Luke would keep the other Wayfinder a secret,” he muses. “If he’s been tracking it by himself wouldn’t it have made more sense for all of us to be involved? We’d have likely found it sooner.” He pauses, regarding Ben curiously. “Mustafar might not be a bad idea after all.” 

Ben cocks a brow. “Dameron, don’t tell me you think I’m _right_?” 

Poe scowls. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Then, because he’s petty, he asks sweetly, “wasn’t it always you who played second-in-command to my pilot when we were kids?” 

“Yes,” answers Ben abruptly, and it looks like it pains him. “Though I detested some of your games I would never do anything to jeopardize our friendship; considering you were the only friend I had.” 

“Oh.” Poe’s embarrassed, strangled sound scrapes through the silence. “I didn’t know that. I thought -” he stops, frowning at the floor. 

Ben looks for all he’s worth like he’s trying to appear smaller, an incapable feat considering his largeness. “I didn’t want to say that,” he rasps out sharply. “I didn’t -” He gets to his feet abruptly, and the embarrassment is gone, replaced by a thunderous expression. “Get out,” he orders, and Rey feels herself, and the others, tense at the tone that belongs to Kylo Ren. “I said leave,” he takes a threatening step towards them, his body almost vibrating as he tries to control his anger. 

“Come on,” Rose tugs gently at Finn’s arm and he takes the hint, allowing her to pull him out of the tent. Poe looks like he’s going to try for another apology but then thinks better of it, raising his palms in imitation of a surrender before ducking out after the others. 

Rey is still rooted to her seat on the cot. She doesn’t say anything, but she does reach out with the force - a tentative, curious touch - and Ben whirls on her, his face marred by a twisted scowl. 

“Get out.” His voice is cold and there is nothing but silence from his end of the bond. She doesn’t even try to argue, only stands silently and slips past him while he watches her go, his hands balled into fists at his sides. 

The moment she steps into the humid air outside she hears a cacophony of crashes and bangs as Ben’s rage gets the better of him and he takes out his fury on his belongings. 

*

Rey steers clear of Ben for the next hour, much like the rest of the Resistance. Unsurprisingly, word has gotten out of Ben’s… condition. Luke is tediously studying the Jedi texts they’d recovered from Ach-To to see if there’s anything that will help, but other than that there isn’t much that anyone can really do. His inability to stay silent is an anomaly to all of them.

Rey spends some time doing a training run, exerting her frustration and confusion on the practice droids that she and Rose had modified for this particular purpose. She pushes herself further, exhaustion weighing on her heavily as Ajan Kloss’ coiling humidity seeps into her skin, unable to feel partly responsible for what Ben is going through. 

She took his hand, after all, and brought him back here. It hasn’t been easy. While his dual identities hadn’t been public knowledge at the start it was obvious that in the absence of Kylo Ren, Ben Solo had appeared, with a wealth of enemy knowledge. The public outcry had been a long and tumultuous battle that Rey had only half expected, and she realises now that Ben has very little in the way of support, if not for his immediate blood family and herself; and he hardly let’s any of them in. 

He’s hardly let _her_ in. 

Rey longs for the bond, as capricious and irregular as it was, to reignite the way it had done on Ach-To. Even as her enemy, Ben had shown her more of himself back then than he does now as an ally. It hurts her to think the only reason she can read him at the moment is due to whatever condition he is currently afflicted with and his lack of control. 

She is accosted unexpectedly with the memory of last night; his hand curled around her wrist, the sweep of his dark lashes. 

Channeling the Force through her feelings she immobilizes two droids and splices through a young sapling, landing on her off-foot and pivoting. It feels good to hurt something, and somewhere, in the minimal Jedi training that Luke has bestowed upon her, a voice says _this is not the way of the Jedi_. Then, another voice, Ben’s, from this morning: _I would not see Rey’s passion extinguished nor misplaced._

She doesn’t notice the tears tracking rivulets down her dirt-smeared cheeks until she stands. 

*

A tech arrives to tell her that Leia requests her presence, and so Rey sends the droids for a fix and makes her way back to base. She has worked up an appetite from her training and so she makes a detour to the supply stalls for something quick to eat. When she arrives, she finds a number of Resistance members chattering away, their voices piqued with curiosity and disbelief. 

Rey nudges her way through to the forefront of where the small group has gathered. On the main table is a considerably sized cake, topped with indulgent frostings and sweet fruit; Rey counts quickly the six, generous layers - 

Sic-Six-Layer Cake. 

She narrows her eyes at the fruit topping. Ecclessis figs.

She grabs the nearest person by the shoulder. “Who made this?” she demands, looking around the room. No one can answer her, all heads shaking and palms splayed in ‘I don’t know?’ She inspects the cake warily, suspicion and familiarity bleeding through and -

Rey gapes for a moment then rushes out. “Ben,” she says breathlessly, reaching out to the bond between them on instinct. She feels it the moment he responds to her, the Force surging in triumphant waves as the flood gates open, his concern marrying her frenzy. The Force practically _sings_ at their sudden, unrestrained feelings. She can sense his confusion and his immediate defensiveness to her distress; he’s trying to find her. 

They meet somewhere in the middle, his run slowing to a jog as he takes quick stock of her and realises she isn’t hurt or in any immediate danger. 

His brow furrows and he blinks, confused. “What is it?” 

Rey senses others drawing closer and she spares half a moment to hope that she’s not completely off the mark with this before blurting, “What did you wish for? Last night?” For a moment, Ben looks as if she has no idea what she’s talking about. “The cake,” encourages Rey, “and the candle and the wish and -” 

“Stop.” Ben’s expression is pained, his hands clenching at his sides. Rey stares, at the tense set of his wide shoulders, the slight flush creeping up the side of his neck. He stares at her imploringly. “Please don’t ask me that -”

Rey steps closer. “After I saw your memory with your parents I wished that I could have gotten you a better cake.” She turns, gesturing to the supply stalls. “Now there’s this _beautiful_ cake that has shown up out of nowhere and it looks exactly like the one from your memory and no one knows who made it - Ben -” 

Ben looks desperately at the ground. Rey can see the exact moment that the fight leaves his body and he gives in, exhaling one long, rakish breath. “I wished. The Force bond." He bites the words out as if they cost a great deal. "I was scared of what it might show you.” 

Rey moves in again, so close now that she can see the tremble of his jaw and the tightness in his neck. His mouth is drawn into such a sullen line he looks to be waging a deeply tormented internal battle. She lays a gentle hand on his forearm and feels electricity charge the space between them. 

Ben faces her head on, his gaze clear and warm. Rey’s breath hitches in her throat.

“I wished for the strength to tell you how I felt,” Ben says steadily. He plunges forward before she can say anything. “So that I no longer had to hide it from you.” 

She is suddenly unable to meet the intensity in Ben's dark eyes. She drops her eyes to his chest, focusing on the rise and fall of it beneath his dark tunic.

“Ben -” 

“I’m in love with you, Rey.” 

Ben leans down and kisses her. It’s quick and desperate and his nose bumps her cheek; their lips not quite slotting together but it's _perfect_. Rey’s eyes flutter shut of their own volition - only to open again a scarce moment later when he pulls back.

A giddy smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You love me?” she asks softly. She doesn’t care that they’ve attracted a small audience, not when she can see his plush lower lip tremble as he gazes at her. He swallows dryly, Adam’s apple bobbing along the column of his pale throat.

Ben smiles, wide with teeth. “I do,” he admits. “I really do.” 

Rey’s hands slide up his arms, the pads of her fingers skimming the line of his jaw, her thumb stroking across his lower lip, and then rises on her tiptoes to meet his mouth as it lowers to hers. Ben reaches up to smooth the hair away from her eyes, leaving his hands tangled in her hair and smiling hugely, and Rey doesn’t even care that she’s sweaty and dirty and neither does Ben - the Force humming in contentment as it carries across his complete and utter _delight_ at the way he’s holding her. 

They get better at the third kiss, and again on the fourth, and Rey thinks that they’re practically professionals come the sixth and seventh. 

Someone coughs to the right of them and Rey is reminded that they are very much in public and very much _not_ alone. In fact, when they both pull away and glance around, half the Resistance base is watching them in a silent sort of awe. 

Poe is at the forefront, eyeing them with a smug look. 

Rey can’t do anything but beam at him before running her gaze over Ben’s reddened lips and bright eyes. 

Ben says without looking, “This better be good, Dameron.”

Poe snorts a laugh and Finn comes up behind with Rose, slinging an arm over the pilot’s shoulder. “So, does this mean you’re cured?”

Ben blinks. “Maybe.” He looks down at Rey again. “Ask me -” 

“When you said you saw passion in Rey this morning, were you talking about sex?” suggests Poe idly. 

Ben glares at him flatly. “Switch off, Dameron.” They all tense, awaiting more, but Ben says nothing, his hands still in Rey’s hair as he stares daggers at Poe. “You were really going to make me talk about sex - “ 

Poe holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey, you didn’t though, am I right?” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” The crowd starts to disperse as Luke makes his way through, Leia not far behind him. “Surely you’ve all got other things to do that are more interesting -” 

“We really don’t,” quips Finn, and laughs when Luke shoots him a filthy look. “Okay, okay.” He tugs on Poe and Rose. “Looks like you guys are doing the perimeter check with me, considering Rey is _indisposed_.” He waggles his brows at them, and Rose mouths _I knew it_ , at Rey over her shoulder.

Ben loosens his hold on her as his mother and uncle approach, and Rey suddenly feels very self conscious. She glances nervously at Leia, but the other woman merely drops a slow, silent wink. Rey flushes. 

“Always dramatics with you, isn’t it?” mutters Luke, eyeing his nephew up. “Can’t just do things quietly.” He eyeballs Rey. “Dyad in the Force alright, never seen anything like it.” 

“What he means to say,” says Leia dryly, with a withering look at her brother, “is; happy birthday.” She graces her son with a soft, warm smile. “When the two of you have finished, I think it’s best we continue our meeting from this morning.” 

Rey clears her throat and she and Ben share a look before she says, “I think we’ve come to a decision.” 

“Oh?” Leia cocks a brow in question. 

“We’re going to Mustafar,” replies Rey, her fingers tangling with Ben’s as his agreeance pulses warmly through the bond. “Together.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @disarmed_


End file.
